Chapter 3 THREE

The wedding ceremony possessed a quaint charm, evoking a sense of old-fashioned romance with its scripted vows and traditional rituals. Despite the formalities of the vows, the songs, and the prayers, love permeated the air, casting a spell of beauty over the entire event. As the organizers directed the attendees to the reception area in the grand hotel, my initial apprehension about attending the wedding reception alone was replaced by a growing excitement to reconnect with Mr. G. However, I had to remind myself of my primary objective.

Regardless of the captivating presence of the handsome man standing among the groomsmen, I remained focused on the reason why I had come here. The rest could be sorted out later.

The reception hall differed from the rooftop ambiance of the previous night. It exuded a more sophisticated atmosphere, adorned in silver and black decor enhanced by opulent floral arrangements and cascading greenery, complemented by the soft glow of iridescent lighting. Each table, covered in shimmering silver cloth, boasted an arrangement of candles within a unique rectangular glass holder. A meticulously calligraphed card labeled "Table twenty-one" gleamed against a foil background. The crystal vases holding the fragrant flowers hinted at their considerable cost, easily surpassing a hundred dollars per arrangement. My lips twisted as I pondered whether I would be the lone occupant at what seemed to be the leftover guests' table, prompting a wave of nervousness to wash over me. No, I refused to succumb to the insecurities of Ashely Taylor, the version of myself who had initially attempted to avoid attending this event. The confident Aurora within me would approach the Johnsons with grace, expressing gratitude for their support of my family, even if I hardly knew them. I had last seen any of them when I was a mere three years old, and my memory was far from reliable. How could they expect me to remember a cousin from twenty-five years ago?

Lost in my thoughts, I was startled by a young man's voice, pulling me back to the present. I absentmindedly sipped the wine that had been poured for me upon settling at the table alone. "I was seated here," he remarked, a hint of concern in his voice. "I hope I'm not taking anyone's place." I turned to face him, greeted by his youthful charm, hazel eyes that matched his smoothly styled blond hair. He appeared to have recently reached the legal drinking age, and his infectious smile suggested he might make for an engaging conversationalist. "Not that I'm aware of," I replied, offering him a warm smile.

Soon after, a group of five young women arrived at the table, their presence eliciting a mixture of amusement and honesty. "I get so jealous..." one of the girls teased, her voice filled with humor. "Calm down, Beck," a striking redhead chimed in as they settled into their seats. Her gaze roamed around the table, eventually meeting mine and the young man who had joined me before the arrival of the girl squad, donning their revealing, high-end gowns. "Hey there," she greeted, her eyes locked with mine. "Hi," I replied, lifting my chin slightly as I returned her smile. "I'm Aurora. I don't believe you've mentioned your name," I gestured toward the guy seated to my right, indicating his lack of introduction.

"I'm Dave," he introduced himself, displaying evident delight at being the only male amidst a table of stunning women. "I suppose I'm the luckiest man in the room," he chuckled. "You might reconsider that once you experience the company of us single and desperately seeking ladies when the dance floor opens," a captivating woman remarked. Her chestnut eyes and luscious chocolate complexion were enviable traits that I would have given anything to possess. "Yeah," Dave replied, taking a sip of his wine.

Before long, their conversation ignited into a whirlwind of gossip. The girls unleashed a barrage of snide remarks about every aspect of my cousin's ceremony, from the decor to the magnificence of the reception. I was appalled, feeling increasingly uncomfortable and at a loss for words. How could anyone go out of their way to be so malicious? As we finished our sumptuous five-star meal, I found myself yearning to escape this toxic environment, with or without the presence of Mr. G. Sure, we had encountered each other randomly three times now, but there was no real connection. It was all surface-level fun, and I had no desire to prolong my stay beyond expressing my gratitude to the family who had aided mine before bidding them farewell.

It was strange how a setting so aesthetically pleasing could turn sour due to the jealousy-fueled antics of women who found solace in degrading the bride on her special day in a desperate attempt to feel better about their own single status. I rose from my seat, intending to make my way towards the Johnsons, who were seated at the front. However, in that moment, the lights flickered, and the entire room underwent a transformation. Darkness enveloped the space, and spotlights illuminated the vacant dance floor. The bride sat on a chair upon the stage, while the music shifted to a hip tune. Blinking to dispel the stardust from my eyes, I noticed the groom leading a meticulously choreographed dance, with his groomsmen following in perfect sync. They had discarded their jackets, revealing crisp white shirts adorned with suspenders. My hand instinctively covered my mouth as I witnessed Mr. G effortlessly executing some seductive dance moves alongside the others. His smile held a mischievous allure as his body swayed in harmony, captivating the bride's attention. This man was a physical specimen, his muscular physique straining against his button-down shirt. Unlike the others, his sleeves were rolled up, exposing his sculpted forearms. I swiftly pulled out my phone, determined to capture a video of this dance routine that the men must have tirelessly rehearsed for weeks to create such an impressive spectacle for the bride. I was certain that the shallow critics at my table would have something negative to say, but personally, I adored it. The performance was a perfect blend of romance, cheesiness, and endearing charm. While I had previously seen similar displays on social media, witnessing it in person was an entirely different experience. Shifting my focus from Mr. G to my cousin, I joined her in cheering as the men twirled and swayed around her, encapsulating the room with their infectious energy.

The bride was an absolute vision of beauty, and what made her even more stunning was the fact that she was carrying a precious bundle of joy within her. Her white dress was expertly tailored to highlight the gentle curve of her burgeoning belly. I couldn't help but imagine how radiant I would feel if I were ever pregnant. Her long, lustrous black curls bounced with each step, and the diamonds adorning her pinned-up veil twinkled under the spotlight that followed the groom and his entourage as they made their way towards her. Amidst the awe-inspiring sight, the hateful chatter resumed, but thankfully, the wedding planner swiftly moved the reception along.

Before we knew it, it was time for the cake-cutting ceremony, followed by the dreaded tradition of the bouquet toss. I found myself standing in line with countless young women, taking my place next to a spirited, gray-haired lady with vibrant red lips. "Are you going to catch it for me, kid?" she asked in a salty voice. I smirked in response, "I seem to have a knack for repelling these sorts of things." She nudged me playfully, cautioning, "Watch out for those bridesmaids. I hear they can be quite competitive."

Suddenly, and without any warning, the bouquet miraculously landed in my hands. Three women viciously attempted to pry it away from me, but they were promptly apprehended and escorted out by the wedding planner and his team. "Jesus," I muttered, running my fingers over the nail marks on my arms inflicted by the desperate women. I turned to the elderly lady and offered her a warm smile. "Here you go," I said, extending the bouquet towards her. "I caught it for you." I tried to make my exit, but she stopped me with a solemn gaze. "It's yours," she said, raising an eyebrow. "You've earned it, honey."

As I hurriedly made my way back to my table, a loud group of men's voices erupted behind me. I couldn't bear another moment of enduring the shallow antics of these wannabe Housewives of San Fran. "I must say, I'm quite perplexed," Mr. G's velvety voice cut through my frustrated thoughts, capturing my attention as he approached. "Why?" the girls nearly chorused, their faces flushing under his gaze. He looked at the blonde who held the bouquet in her hands. "I've never been so thrilled to catch the garter so that I could partake in a photograph with my future wife," he said with a grin. The blonde exhaled confidently, making her way towards his irresistible smirk. "I guess that's what it means, right?" she asked. "That's exactly what it means. Allow me," he said, gently taking the bouquet from her. "This doesn't particularly belong to you, whether it was handed down or not."

Oh, great! After enduring the company of these girls at the table since the beginning of the reception, I had a sinking feeling that they were capable of ordering a hit on me if this guy did what I suspected he was about to do.

"Annie?" he raised an eyebrow, extending the bouquet towards me. "We need to take some pictures together."

"I'm good," I replied, my lips tightening, feeling the burning gazes directed at me. I wanted no part in any of this.

"I disagree," he retorted, locking me into a trance with his intense stare. "You can give it to one of these ladies later, but for now, you and I are the ones who will be talked about as the next ones to tie the knot. I can't think of a more stunning woman in this room to be in this situation with."

"Go," Dave interjected. "Sheesh, you're pissing off the entire table."

I looked at him, disbelief written across my face as I stood up. "Sorry. Let's go take our pictures," I said, linking my arm with the guy. As we walked away from the group, he pulled me aside, moving us away from the commotion.

"How on earth did you end up seated with the bride's sworn enemies?" he asked, a mix of curiosity and amusement in his voice.

"My future husband," I played along, noticing his smile. "He's part of the wedding party and didn't bother to ensure I was seated with the groom's guests."

"What an ass," Mr. G remarked.

"Yeah, he thought it would be hilarious after I refused to sleep with him last night," I revealed. That caught Mr. G off guard. He almost stumbled but quickly regained his composure.

"Well, perhaps you should have given in," he suggested, taking my hand and placing the flowers in it. "After all, he did have to endure this penguin suit."

Our eyes locked in an unspoken banter as the photographer captured our picture. "He's the one who accepted the job, being a good friend and all," I responded, allowing him to lead me to the side while the newlyweds took the floor for their first dance.

"You seem to have forgotten that he was coerced into this whole ordeal," Mr. G noted.

"Hmm," I smiled, watching the bride and groom sway to the music. "I don't recall him mentioning he was part of the wedding."

"Wow," Mr. Gorgeous played along. "He really is a jerk."

"Yep," I agreed. "Leaves me to fend for myself. That's why I'll probably leave him to deal with the rest of this once I pay my respects to the family I actually came here for."

"You weren't impressed by his dancing skills, then?" Mr. G inquired.

"Not even a little bit," I replied. "Well, I can't blame you. He only learned it a day ago."

"Quite the talent," I commented, scanning the room for the Johnsons while engaging in conversation with this magnetic stranger. "Well, save a dance for me," he said before disappearing into the crowd.

Alright. I had no intention of returning to my table, so I sought out the older woman to whom I was determined to give the flowers. Gorgeous guy or not, I was done with this entire wedding affair. Finally, I found her, seated with the Johnsons. Killing two birds with one stone.

"Aurora Taylor?" Mr. Johnson's gray eyes met mine as he stood up. "You look absolutely fantastic, my dear."

"These are for that lovely lady over there," I said, handing the flowers to him and pointing towards the elderly woman engaged in conversation with, presumably, his wife. "It's great to see you. My dad sends his best wishes, but he hasn't been feeling well lately."

"I'll give these to my mother," he replied, reaching over to place the bouquet on the table.

"Is he still struggling after your mother's passing?" Mr. Johnson inquired with genuine concern, standing up from his seat. I flashed him a grateful smile, appreciating his kind-heartedness.

"He's just stubborn, doing his own thing," I responded, trying to brush off the weight of the topic. "It could be his way of grieving, but let's not bring that up."

He nodded understandingly. "We are so grateful for all you've done and so excited for today," I added, wanting to express my gratitude.

"Well, I'm honored you accepted, sweetheart," Mr. Johnson replied warmly. "I have a dance with my daughter. I'll catch up with Mark in the morning. Good to see you, kid."

I nodded, bidding him farewell as he gracefully made his way through the crowd towards his daughter. Lost in my thoughts, I stood there alone until a sudden interlocking of fingers startled me. I turned to find Mr. G by my side, as if we were a serious couple, leaving behind the playful banter of the husband-wife charade.

"What are you doing?" I asked, my voice soft and curious.

"Holding your hand, waiting for our dance, of course," he replied, his tone filled with confidence.

"You are quite bold," I remarked, slightly taken aback by his audacity.

"Listen, it was nice, but I seriously need to get out of here," I confessed, feeling the overwhelming desire to escape the chaos of the wedding.

"You're not leaving me again," Mr. G stated firmly. "I lost you once-last night-after not being at my best. I'm not losing you again."

His words struck a chord within me, and I couldn't help but be intrigued. "Funny," I responded, a hint of a smile playing on my lips. "If you want to play this game, then who the hell are you?"

His gaze traveled down to where I stood, considerably shorter than him even with my heels. "Most people call me Cole," he revealed. "And you?"

"Most people call me Rory," I replied, my smile widening. With each word that escaped his lips, he managed to loosen the imaginary tension that had gripped me since the start of this charade. "But to the people I've just met, I'm Aurora."

"Well, since we both confirmed our husband-and-wife future back there, I believe I'll stick with Rory," he said, his confidence unwavering.

"You are presumptuous, aren't you?" I commented, both impressed and amused by his boldness.

"I get what I want, yes," he admitted, flashing a mischievous grin that somehow didn't come off as arrogant.

"And if you don't?" I challenged, meeting his gaze head-on.

"Trust me," he replied, his eyes locking onto mine. "I'll have you in my bed tonight."

His words sent a wave of heat rushing through me, melting any resistance I had. I found myself inexplicably drawn to his sultry voice, his daring smile, and his captivating ocean-blue eyes. I was powerless to resist.

I couldn't find a response to his bold statement, but the arousal he had aroused within me told me that I might just be the one sending the morning-after text, not the other way around. This was a guy I knew I would regret not being intimate with, rather than the opposite.

The music changed, the atmosphere shifted, and before I knew it, I was in his arms, twirling gracefully on the dance floor. In that moment, I silently thanked my mother for insisting I take dance classes, even though I had initially protested.

With each salsa and tango move he effortlessly led me through, we fell into perfect step. Though we were having fun, we managed to avoid causing too much of a scene. For the first time in a long while, I felt liberated and carefree.

We laughed together, indulging in silly dance moves, and in that fleeting moment, I was transported to a world of spontaneity and excitement with this enigmatic man named Cole.

I held onto this newfound feeling of freedom tightly. The best part was that he didn't know who I was. I didn't have to see him pretending to care about my dad and me, asking about my mom's death. That's what this trip had become-a constant reminder of her passing whenever someone asked about us. I still didn't have a good answer, and it made me angry, which wasn't fair to those who genuinely cared. It was a struggle.

Part of me couldn't accept that my mom had lost her battle with cancer. Now, I understood why my dad had reservations about coming to this wedding. This trip was bringing up painful emotions.

Yet, as I twirled on the dance floor, held by Cole's strong hands, I felt an unexpected sense of healing. It was like he had the power to soothe the wounds this trip had reopened. It was strange that our first meeting, caused by me spilling a drink on him, had led to this moment.

The intriguing part was that Cole was used to getting what he wanted, and now he might finally get it. But this time, it was what I wanted. If I considered being with him, it would be for my own sake, not his. And given how attractive he was, it was unlikely he'd be upset if we had a passionate night together and then went our separate ways.